


in a stupor

by damipussycomplex



Series: noncontober 2020 [19]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Biting, Choking, Creampie, Edgeplay, Force-Feeding, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, M/M, Manipulation, Mindbreak, Noncontober 2020, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, Trans Damian Wayne, Trans Male Character, Underage Rape/Non-con, Vaginal Sex, Victim Blaming, but dick is still ric, but only light, damian has some very depressing thoughts, how do i tag 'fantasising about killing someone'??, hunger strike??, just go with it please, okay i think that's done, okay this is quite angsty, oops forgot to mention that this is after damian gave up robin, please be careful guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27105667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damipussycomplex/pseuds/damipussycomplex
Summary: Damianshouldbelieve in his family. Heshouldbelieve that they'll come to rescue him. The only problem is that he's not too sure what hecanbelieve in anymore.
Relationships: Talon/Damian Wayne
Series: noncontober 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951705
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	in a stupor

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 19 of noncontober: mindbreak.

“How long are you going to carry on pretending for?” Talon asks as he walks into Damian’s cell and notices the untouched bowl of soup next to him. Damian doesn’t look at him, but out of the corner of his eye, he notices that the door has been left slightly ajar and Talon is leaning against the wall opposite him.

He’s never done that before, never implied that Damian is _allowed_ to leave, unless one was to count the exception of the daily occurrence of him opening the door and dragging Damian out to assault him.

“Pretending _what?_ ” Damian croaks, his throat dry from a lack of water. It’s not that he hasn’t been given any – there’s a full glass right next to his bowl, but he doesn’t trust that it’s _only_ water, doesn’t trust his captor not to try and slip something into it.

“That I’m lying about them not wanting you back,” Talon says calmly, but when Damian chances a quick look up at him, he sees the barest hint of a smirk. “That I’m lying about the food and water being fine. That you don’t want to leave this cell and actually be taken care of.”

Damian bristles at the implication that his family wouldn’t care about him enough to come and save him from this deranged _lunatic_ who seems to have gotten the strange idea into his head that Damian wasn’t being treated the way he ought to have been in his _own home_.

“I want to leave this cell so that I can _go home_ , not so that you can _attack_ me more than you already do,” Damian grits out, bringing his knees closer to his chest and glaring up at Talon, but he has to shuffle backwards until his back is pressed against a wall when Talon suddenly starts to move forwards until he’s right in front of Damian, moving smoothly into a low crouch.

“Little bird,” he sighs, grabbing Damian’s chin and tilting his head up, claws long enough to graze his cheeks, eyes sharp. “You know that I am fond of you and how stubborn you are. But I won’t tolerate disobedience or lies.” Damian carries on glaring at him even as one of Talon’s claws slices a cut in his bottom lip. “Now eat what I have given you _gratefully_ , or else I will force it down your throat.”

Damian’s jaw tightens as he looks away, and he hears Talon’s teeth grind when he just ignores him. Not only does he not want to eat anything, but he doesn’t understand how Talon expects him to eat with broken fingers from his tantrum a couple of days ago.

His face is suddenly turned back and Talon’s fingers press against the pressure points underneath his jaw, keeping his mouth open for the glass of water which is shoved against his lips, water pouring down his throat and making him choke as it dribbles out of the corners of his mouth.

The glass is pulled away and Damian is given about two seconds to catch his breath before the bowl is pressed to his lips too, cold, thick soup filling his mouth and making him gag as it clogs his throat up, tasteless and a little lumpy. Talon keeps it there until the bowl is completely empty and then moves it away, setting it down on the floor. Damian hears the sound of fabric tearing and looks down, an angry flush rising to his face as he realises that Talon has ripped off a thin strip from the bottom of his shirt, leaving his lower belly exposed as Talon roughly wipes his face clean.

“Get up,” he says as he gets to his feet, staring down at Damian with an unreadable look on his face. Damian stares right back with narrowed eyes, startled when the cuffs around his ankles are suddenly unlocked and he’s dragged up onto his feet, yelping as he’s hoisted over Talon’s shoulder and carried out of the cell like a petulant child.

“Put me down this instant,” he hisses, beating his fists against Talon’s back, but going without food or water for days has weakened him, and he soon grows tired of fighting, slumping over instead and trying not to throw up the food and water he’s just been forced to have. It doesn’t even cross Damian’s mind to look up and memorise the path they’re taking so that he’ll know where he’s going when he manages to leave his cell permanently.

But his attention is quickly diverted when he’s carried into what looks like a bedroom and the door is locked, feeling a little dizzy when Talon throws him down onto the bed. There’s a dangerous smile on Talon’s face, one which Damian has learned is usually reserved for people he hates or his targets, one which has never been turned on Damian until now.

“If you’re going to kill me now, just get it over and done with,” he finds himself blurting out, trying not to wince as soon as the words have left his mouth. But Talon’s mouth twitches and his smile changes into a smirk, and Damian’s shoulders almost automatically relax – he’s not too sure why, but Talon’s smirks seem to be safer than his smiles.

“Why would I kill you after going through the trouble of kidnapping you and then giving you food and shelter?” Talon asks, cold eyes glinting with amusement as he crawls onto the bed too, leaning over Damian.

“If it was so much _trouble_ , why did you bother taking me in the first place?” Damian snaps, trying to close the gap between his legs but it’s no use – Talon just pulls them apart again and settles between his thighs, smirk widening.

“I could’ve killed you,” he ponders out loud, fingers and thumb circling around Damian’s throat and squeezing hard enough to momentarily cut off his air, easing after a few seconds. “I wanted to, just then.” Damian swallows thickly as Talon’s thumb rubs over one of his jugular veins, hissing as Talon’s claws slice his skin open and blood trickles slowly down his neck. Talon leans in and presses his cold lips to Damian’s skin, licking up the blood and grazing his teeth over Damian’s pulse.

“I’ve wondered what it would look like if I ran you through with a dagger or my claws and got to watch the life drain from your eyes,” he murmurs, and it’s almost against his own free will that Damian shudders and arches up into him, feeling Talon smirk against his skin as he holds Damian’s hips down and nips at his neck.

“Would you suit bruises around your neck from being strangled, or would you look prettier with a snapped neck?” Damian closes his eyes and tries to slow down his racing heart, biting down hard enough on his tongue to draw blood. “Maybe even a slit throat could look good on you. That way, I’d get to see you choking to death on your own blood. And I _know_ that red suits you.”

“Maybe I’ll bring you _close_ to death. But I won’t kill you. Not yet anyway.”

Damian’s eyes shoot open and he looks up at Talon, who isn’t smirking anymore, face blank. “What? Why not?”

“Are you saying you _want_ me to kill you?” Talon says, and he sounds amused. Damian splutters, ears burning as he tries to get out a _no_ , but Talon smirks again as he uses his claws to tear up Damian’s shirt, tossing the scraps of fabric onto the floor and spreading Damian’s thighs even further apart.

“I’m not killing you because you’re _mine_ ,” Talon says, voice deceivingly soft as he slowly sinks his teeth into Damian’s skin, just beneath his ear, and Damian has to grit his teeth so that he doesn’t cry out or _moan_ or do anything else as embarrassing as that, but his hands fly up to grip onto Talon’s shoulders, fingers digging deep into the muscle. “And _I_ take _good care_ of what is mine.”

“Including _this_ ,” he says, eyes dark and unwavering as one of his gloved hands slides down Damian’s chest and stomach, brushing over the tops of his thighs and then delving between his legs to rub against Damian’s cunt with a filthy sound, wet and slick. Damian’s breath hitches and his face feels hot as Talon stares down at him, at how _wet_ he is.

“This is mine, and look at it,” he says, voice soft again as he uses his fingers to spread him open, and Damian bites back a whine when his hips jerk and he grinds against Talon’s hand. “So wet, and it’s just for _me_ ,” Talon purrs, mouthing at one of Damian’s nipples.

“ _No_ ,” Damian whimpers, face burning with shame as he tries to push the hand away, but all Talon does is bite his nipple and grind down against him, easily gathering both of Damian’s wrists in one hand and pinning them down as he grazes his teeth over the thin skin above Damian’s ribs.

And then he’s being flipped over onto his stomach, hands curling around his hips and pulling him up onto his hands and knees. “Stop,” he blurts out, panicking as Talon shifts on the bed and shuffles closer to him until his hips are pressed right up against Damian’s ass, and there’s no barrier between their skin, no armour or clothes or _anything_.

“You said you wouldn’t –” he’s cut off by the sound of his own pained sob as Talon’s cock pushes into him, thick and hot and pulsing inside him. Talon shushes him, lips brushing over his spine as he pushes three fingers into Damian’s mouth to keep him quiet, the other two curling underneath his jaw.

“I said that I wouldn’t if you _listened_ to me and did as you were told,” Talon corrects, starting to thrust into him, and he’s _achingly_ slow, dragging it out for as long as he can. “But you didn’t eat your food, and you keep lying to me and _yourself_.”

“Come on, little bird,” he coos, nuzzling into Damian’s cheek and contentedly licking at his tears. “Not only can I feel your ribs, but I can _see_ them too. And you’ve lost a lot of muscle mass. How do you expect to get back to those people who don’t even _care_ about you when you’re in such a state?”

Damian tries to growl something around his fingers, but Talon just chuckles and pulls them out, leaning to nip at his ear. “What was that?” He hums, wet fingers sliding down to Damian’s throat and wrapping around his neck.

“You’re wrong. They _do_ care,” Damian whispers, voice hoarse, and he feels Talon’s mouth curl up into a smirk against the back of his neck.

“Oh, you still believe that, do you?” Talon says, biting into the back of one of his shoulders, and Damian gasps wetly, trying to curve away from him. “They don’t _want_ you,” Talon continues, voice firm and resolute, like he doesn’t have a single doubt about what he’s saying. “They don’t _care_. They _know_ how dangerous I am. They know that I _kill,_ that I could kill _you_. Do you really think they would’ve let me kidnap you and take you to another _dimension_ if they _cared?_ ”

Damian wavers, eyes stinging with tears. “I’ve been kidnapped before, and they always got me back,” he argues, and Talon snorts, moving so that they’re both sat up on their knees, cradling Damian’s jaw and bringing his head back to rest it on Talon’s shoulder so that his neck is exposed.

“You might be able to lie to them, but not to _me_ ,” he says, mouthing at Damian’s jaw. “I know how many times you’ve had to free yourself and fight your own way out because they either didn’t notice that you were gone, or they couldn’t be _bothered_ coming to get you. I know that you’ve had to clean up your own wounds and pretend that everything is fine, even though it’s not.”

Damian’s lips wobble, but he bites back another sob as Talon bites the side of his neck. “You want me to _prove_ they don’t want you?” Talon asks, licking the mark he’s just made. “That’s fine by me.” He adjusts their positions so that Damian is basically sat in his lap and carries on thrusting into him. “Let’s begin with the one you pretend to hate the most, hm?”

No. _No._

“Tim Drake, formerly Robin before you took it from him and currently Red Robin. Or Drake. Or whatever he goes by now.” Damian shakes his head, but Talon covers his mouth with his hand and shushes him before continuing, fingers digging into his cheek. “Where do I start with this one? You’ve tried to kill him several times, you stole Robin from him, you’ve repeatedly told him that he isn’t good enough or that he doesn’t _belong_ – I think that’s _more_ than enough for him to be glad that he doesn’t have to deal with you anymore.”

Damian sobs into his hand, squeezing his eyes shut, but Talon keeps going. “Who next? Maybe Jason Todd. He’s shot you. He’s beaten you up. He blames you for the butler’s death and has cut off all ties with you. What about that makes you think he _likes_ you?” Talon says, nosing at the curve of his jaw, and Damian stops breathing at the mention of Alfred, starting to hyperventilate.

“Do you think he _hates_ you more because Batman took him back to the place where he died so he could resurrect _you_ , or because Batman bothered _trying_ for you and _not him?_ Batman probably regrets that too.” Talon’s hand slides away from his mouth to pinch his nipples, and Damian chokes on his own breath, chest aching.

“Speaking of the butler,” Talon starts, and Damian desperately shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear this, he doesn’t _need_ to hear it. He _knows_ that he wronged Alfred, that it’s _his_ fault Alfred is gone, that _he_ should’ve been the one that Bane killed. “He died because of _your_ mistakes, but if he _was_ still alive, he’d probably be glad to be rid of you too. One less mouth to feed, one less _burden_ to clean up after,” Talon hums, and Damian feels – _empty_.

“Oh, how could I forget about your version of _me?_ ” Talon laughs, low and dark, and Damian freezes. “You’ve only ever been a responsibility forced onto him. You came along and he had to make you Robin, had to treat you as his little brother when Batman got lost in time. But then Batman came back, and he couldn’t get away from you any quicker than he did.” Damian’s wet eyes widen as he wonders how long exactly Talon has been watching him for. “As soon as he could, he dumped you back with your father and ran off to Blüdhaven, and if I’m correct, he rarely spoke to you after that outside of work.”

Talon suddenly grunts and his hips jerk as Damian feels him spill inside his cunt, come dripping down his thighs and probably pooling in Talon’s lap. Damian hopes this torture is over, but he should’ve known not to hope for _anything_ when it comes to Talon, because when he tries to move, Talon yanks him back down onto his softening cock, making Damian cry out as he murmurs, “I’m not done just yet.”

“What does your version of me call himself now? Ric? A little _tacky_ for my tastes, but it doesn’t affect me, I suppose,” Talon says, licking the sweat that has gathered on Damian’s back as he grinds up into him. “He went and got himself shot and got amnesia, and now is _apparently_ living a happier life without all of you. My point is, he doesn’t remember you, and it doesn’t really look like he _wants_ to.”

Damian hiccups out a sob, tears streaming down his face, and it _hurts_ , hearing something which he already _knows_ to be true being confirmed by someone who isn’t even involved in the situation. He feels cold and numb and like his heart has chosen to give up on him, chest aching with every undeserving breath he tries to heave in.

“Last but not least, of course, is your father,” Talon says, like he’s announcing the contestants in a game show, and not listing Damian’s many failures and mistakes and why no one would _ever_ want him back as much as he wanted them to, why no one would ever _love_ him as much as he loved them. “He _chose_ the rest of your so-called family, but he didn’t choose _you._ You’ve only ever been a _burden_ on him, forced on him by your mother who couldn’t be bothered dealing with you either.”

“He _did_ choose me, he _wanted_ me. He brought me back,” Damian tries to protest through his tears, but he knows that he’s lying, knows that there’s no point in trying to argue against Talon when he’s only telling the _truth_.

Talon snorts again. “He only brought you back so that he wouldn’t have to go through the trouble of finding and training up _another_ Robin. I mean, you might have been useless and gotten yourself _killed_ , but at least you’d had some training from him and your mother.” The scar on Damian’s chest throbs as he remembers his death, remembers the pain of the sword running through him and leaving him lying in a pool of his own blood. He thinks _this_ hurts more than that ever could.

“That implies that nearly all of the Robins were useless,” Damian weakly argues, and he doesn’t know why.

“I never said that any of you were skilled,” Talon chuckles against his throat, fucking up into him again, and Damian briefly allows himself to wonder if telling Damian how utterly _pathetic_ he is gets him off. “But you are a special case, aren’t you? And you _know_ that, don’t you? I mean, that’s why you gave up being Robin, isn’t it? Because you knew that you would _never_ be able to live up to any of the ones before you, and that you didn’t _deserve_ it. You knew that you’d always be the _worst_ Robin.”

And Damian _breaks_ , gasping for air and scratching at Talon’s hand on his throat. He suddenly can’t _breathe_ , can’t see or hear or feel _anything_. Can’t think of anything but how _incompetent_ he is, how he’s been a _failure_ of a son, of a brother, a friend, a _Robin_. Of a _human being_. He should never have let himself think for even one second that he was and could ever be _good_ , that he could be redeemed after all of the blood he’d managed to get on his hands, and him going to Hell after he died just proves that.

Father shouldn’t have brought him back. He should’ve left him there to _rot_ , to cry and scream and beg for mercy which he’d never receive as a punishment for every _wrong_ that he’d done. His mother had been right to get rid of him too. She’d called him defective, an enemy, and had lined up replacements for Damian as soon as he decided to join his father, and Damian doesn’t even have to hope that they’ll please her more than he ever did, because that’s a given.

Talon’s voice manages to break through the thoughts in his head as he runs his gloved hand up and down Damian’s stomach. At least he somewhat pleases _Talon_. Damian considers asking him – no, _begging_ him to bring his claws back out and stab them deep into Damian’s belly, to let all of the blood drain out of him so that he’s sent back to where he truly _belongs_.

“It’s okay, little bird,” Talon soothes. “You can be good for _me_ , I know you can. All you have to do is listen to me, and accept that you’re _mine_. Just do this for me, and I will _want_ you more than you ever thought you _could_ be wanted. I’ll take care of you better than they ever could.”

His hand slides down to rub at Damian’s swollen, sensitive clit, and Damian jerks in his arms, crying out. “Just submit to me, and tell me who you belong to,” Talon hums, catching Damian’s ear between his teeth. Damian trembles, feeling like he could burst, blinding lights flashing behind his closed eyes. “Come on, little bird, be _good_ for me.”

He mumbles something and Talon leans in, fingers circling over his clit even faster than before. “What was that?” He asks, and Damian says it again, louder. But Talon keeps asking him to repeat himself, keeps bringing Damian to the edge and then back again until he’s practically wailing, “Yours, _yours_ – I belong to _you_.”

A kiss is pressed to the corner of his mouth as the fingers speed up again, and Damian _screams_ as he comes, not even halfway through his orgasm and shivering as he’s shoved back down on his hands and knees and Talon grabs his hips again, groaning as he spills inside Damian for the second time.

“You made the right decision, little bird,” Talon whispers into his ear, still slumped over him, and Damian finds himself thinking that even if this is a mistake, just like everything else he’s ever done, it is the best mistake he could’ve made.

**Author's Note:**

> hello, this is quite a dark fic from me and i'm tired so if you read through it and think there are any tags that i should've added, please just let me know politely in the comments and i'll add them!


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